


The Only Logical Solution

by Pollydoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: Bucky's pining after a girl. Darcy wishes the guy she's gone on would notice her. Somehow, there's only one logical solution.





	1. Chapter One

It started, as these things do, with a simple conversation.   
At least, as simple a conversation with Darcy Lewis was ever likely to be. 

“Are you in love with him?”

The brunette appeared in front of him, curves wrapped into a tight bottle-green bandage dress and holding an empty beer bottle in one hand. She quite effectively blocked his view of the dance floor, the bass of Stark’s soundsystem thumping through the hardwood floor underneath them, unfortunately not loud enough to obscure her words. 

“What? Wha- No. No.” Bucky shook his head at her. 

“Hey man, I’m not judging,” Darcy held her hands up in surrender whilst her mouth continued to run. “I just thought I’d ask, you know, ‘cause we’ve been friends for a while now, and it’s pretty obvious you’re pining and if I’m being honest we all kind of assumed it was over Nat, but you’re a complicated dude so I thought I’d just-”

“No, Darcy,” Bucky said with a sigh and a short wave of one hand, before she could wrap herself up in any more knots, trying to stem the word vomit that poured forth from the pretty brunette. “I’m not in love with Steve.”

She slipped into the chair next to him, hem of her dress riding up and her bare thigh nestling snugly against his as she settled. The beer bottle she discarded on the table behind them. A full minute passed before she had to speak again. 

“So, Nat, then?”

Bucky wondered what the mileage might be in denying it, but it sounded horrifically likely that everyone knew anyway. Darcy had become, against all logical explanation, quite a good friend over the past few months. There wasn’t an awful lot he could from the girl. He nodded, sinking the rest of his beer with his eyes closed.

“Sucks, doesn't it,” Darcy said quietly, and he found himself turning his head to look at her. The little brunette wasn't looking back at him any more, rather toward the dance floor where Natasha - beautiful, deadly, unattainable Natasha - was wrapped firmly around Steve.

Bucky reached behind him to pluck another beer from the table, popped the cap with the thumb of his left hand and handed it over to the girl, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. 

She accepted it with a small smile, and he took another for himself. 

“So,” he said, running a hand over the rim of the bottle, drops of condensation collecting across it, already knowing the answer to the question he was about to ask. Darcy was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t often one of them. “Steve? Or should I infer from your earlier question that maybe there's something you want to tell me?”

Darcy laughed, and raised her bottle towards him in a mock toast to his joke. Bucky noticed, slightly impressed, that she'd managed to drain half of it already. 

“Not Natasha,” she clarified with a rueful shake of her head. “She's got to be the most gorgeous looking woman I've ever seen, and I would kill for a share of her shoe collection, but aside from one particularly interesting all nighter in college, I don't swing that way.”

“And,” she added, turning her attention back to the dance floor. “I don't think I'd stand a chance against Steve.”

“I know that feeling,” Bucky muttered, and Darcy gave him a sharp glance. 

“C’mon,” she nudged him. “Let’s move this pity party to the balcony. I don’t feel like being here when Tony inevitably crashes out on the couch and starts telling us how we’re all going wrong with our love lives and how we should all be more like him and Pepper.”

“Agreed,” Bucky answered shortly. 

\--------

“So what’s the deal, anyway?” Darcy asked, leaning on her elbows over the balcony rail, looking out over the blinking lights of New York and marvelling at how many of them were still glittering even at nearly gone 1am. Stark’s parties always ran late, and she was always amazed that the rest of the city seemed to keep up with him. 

Bucky followed her out, impressively silent on his feet for such a big guy, and Darcy turned back to him, still lounged over the rail but twisted to face the dark haired man. 

“We used to-” he waved his beer bottle demonstratively, and wondered what that clarified for anyone. Darcy peered up at him, one eyebrow raised. “You know,” he tried again, sloshing a bit of his beer on himself as he gesticulated. “We, uh, we-”

“Fucked,” Darcy supplied helpfully, having a feeling he wasn't going to get around to it anytime soon. Bucky fixed her with a slightly sour look, but nodded anyway, scowling into his beer bottle as though that might change anything. 

“I didn't remember a whole lot of it, for a long time. And then, when I finally did…” He shrugged, and the pair of them turned slightly, looking back into the huge room from the balcony, only to watch as Steve tucked Nat under one broad arm and pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead. 

“Too late,” Bucky said, something a little wistful in his voice as he spoke. He appeared to shake himself, and glanced back at Darcy, whose eyes were travelling south from Steve's shoulders to his waist, where one of Nat’s delicate arms was curled. “You?”

“Classic hero worship,” she quipped, with a shrug of her own and her tongue poked into the side of her mouth. Bucky could practically taste the way she’d layered her real feeling with a joke, to make it more palatable for her. And, he supposed, himself. 

“Rescued Jane and I from the lab one time, not long after we got moved to the tower. Jane's wormhole experiment got a little big a lot faster than the calculations indicated.” She shook her head and swallowed another mouthful of beer. 

“So being rescued does it for a girl, huh?” Bucky asked, eyes sliding from the dark haired girl next to him to the lithe redhead who was laughing at something Steve had said, the big blond grinning sheepishly as she did so.

Darcy's eyes followed his and she shook her head again. 

“Does it for me, big guy, but I don't think Nat’s in need of any rescuing,” she said. Bucky nodded, more to himself than to the girl beside him. Darcy let her eyes run over the man beside her, and chewed awkwardly on her lower lip before speaking again. 

“So…” She began, and he looked down at her, large blue eyes catching some of the light from the city below, sparkling with the glitter that emanated from the other buildings. “You never said anything?”

He grinned, a smile that held no humour whatsoever, and raised the bottle he’d been hanging onto to his mouth before answering her. Darcy waited. 

“Nah,” Bucky said finally, after swallowing hard and deliberately not looking back into the building. Instead he hung over the balcony rail in an approximation of her earlier pose. Darcy took his lead and did the same, waiting on him to expand. 

“Couldn’t do that to Steve,” he said quietly, fingers idly tracing over the wet label still plastered to the bottle he was holding, letting the paper bubble and tear under his attentions. “Already fucked up enough of his life, didn’t need to complicate his relationship as well. Not when he’s happy.”

“Do you love her?” Darcy asked quietly. 

He stared up at the stars, dotted over them like scattered sugar over a table cloth, as though that held any of the answers. Darcy watched him, as the minutes passed, and his silence was more than enough answer for them both. 

“I can't love her,” Barnes said finally, twisting his hands together over the balcony rail and around the neck of the empty beer bottle he was still holding. “I can't even trust my own memories, even if they feel real, so how could I possibly say I love her?”

Darcy supposed it was a rhetorical question, but she'd never been one for keeping her mouth shut. 

“Not sure that's how love works,” she said, looking past him to where Steve was placing a gentle kiss to Natasha’s collarbone, his large frame curled around her from behind. Nat closed her eyes and leaned back against his broad chest, offering her neck to him openly, complete trust in her body as she surrendered to her man.

Bucky snorted. 

“It's the way it has to be,” he said flatly, turning to Darcy with one elbow resting on the polished chrome of the balcony. He looked down at his hand, clutching the empty beer bottle which caught the light and shone, green and bright for a moment, before he twisted it down and away. “That’s an itch that can’t be scratched.”

Darcy glanced over at him, then back at Steve, who was tugging a laughing Natasha through the open double doors, resorting to scooping her up into his arms bridal style as she threw her head back, red hair swinging as he carried her. She felt an uncomfortable squeeze in her chest as she watched them depart. 

“Well if you ever have an itch that needs a scratching,” Darcy said quietly, not looking at the man next to her as she spoke. “It's not like my dance card is claimed.”

Bucky laughed. 

“I'll keep it in mind, kid. ‘Nother beer?”

\--------

There was a knock at her door, so soft and so quiet that she almost didn't hear it. Darcy turned, head bleary from the alcohol racing through her system and heart thumping in her chest as she glanced over at the little red digits blinking on the clock radio. Her hand was reaching for the table side lamp before she remembered that a burglar wouldn't knock.

In fact, there was only one person who might appear at this time of night - morning, the grumpier side of Darcy corrected - and that would be a girl named Jane. 

She crossed the apartment and pulled open the door hurriedly, expecting to find the scientist on the other side, possibly covered in the remains of an experiment gone wrong, only to come face to chest with Bucky.

Darcy looked up slowly, blinking, and just realised at the last moment, as his eyes widened slightly, that she wasn't actually wearing all that much. She coughed, tugging at the hem of her shirt and wishing she had on something other than Mickey Mouse printed underwear. 

“Uh, so, what's up?” Darcy squeaked, simultaneously pulling at her shirt and trying to lean casually against the door frame, as though having super soldiers turn up at her front door in the middle of the night - morning, grumpy Darcy insisted - was perfectly normal.

He looked a little awkward, rubbing one hand at the back of his neck, though his eyes didn't exactly stay on her face as he looked at her. 

“You, uh…” Bucky trailed off and swallowed. “You said, uh, that…” 

Darcy blinked in confusion, and then several pennies dropped all at once, clattering around the inside of her mind. 

“Oh-” 

Shit. 

Definitely not the time for Mickey Mouse underwear. 

“Oh god,” Bucky said, putting his face in his hands. “You were - you were joking. I'm sorry, I didn't, I don't - fuck. I'm not good with - people.”

He turned as he was still speaking, words a little muffled by his hands, and shifted to walk away. Darcy darted out from the doorway, hoping sincerely that no one else was up at the same time, and grabbed at his hand as he moved, tugging him back inside the doorway.

“I did mean it,” she said, hanging onto his hand and looking up at him seriously. “I… I just didn't think you would.”

Bucky stared at her.

“Why?” He asked, confusion creeping into his voice as he spoke. 

“You know, you're…” Darcy waved a hand over him and gathered up what courage she had rattling around at 3am in the morning. “All that. And I'm, well,” she jerked her hand back toward herself and snorted. 

“You’re just fine from where I’m standing,” Bucky said gruffly, and Darcy tugged at the hem of her t-shirt again, wishing heartily that wash day didn’t mean Disney-printed underwear. Perhaps the next time she drunkenly propositioned a super soldier about a friends with benefits situation, she’d remember to at least set aside some decent lingerie. 

“You don’t need to,” Bucky said lowly, stepping forward, stepping so close to her, and putting one large hand over hers as she fisted it in the hem of her t-shirt. Darcy froze in place, and Bucky’s eyes flickered downwards, to where his fingers tangled into hers. 

“I, um,” Darcy said, eloquently. 

Bucky dropped his head, nearly resting on her shoulder, fingers still intertwined with her own, but edging under the hem of her shirt, brushing across the bare skin of her stomach and sliding along the edge of her panties. 

“This okay?” Bucky asked quietly, his lips brushing over the soft skin of her neck as he spoke, his head was so close to her. Darcy caught her breath, unable to speak as his finger danced along the line of her panties, close but not yet touching her. She nodded.

His finger slipped below the line of her panties and his other hand - cool to the touch - moved upward, cupping at her face and tilting her head just enough so that he could press his lips lightly to hers. 

Bucky pulled back and looked at her, his hand now tugging at the edge of her panties, the material sliding lower but not yet baring her to him. His metal hand still cradled her cheek. 

“You got an itch needs scratching, Lewis?” He breathed, mouth almost touching hers but not quite. She swallowed hard, and nodded again, still unable to get her speech working. He chuckled, and his thumb ran across her lower lip as he pulled again on the soft material of her panties, edging them down and down her hips. 

“Me too,” Bucky said lowly, and then he was gone, dropped to his knees in front of her, Mickey Mouse panties hitting the floor with him. 

“Door-” she managed, and he leaned back on his heels, nudging the door shut before turning his attention back to her. Darcy’s breath hitched as Bucky ran his hand up her legs slowly, ankle to hip, drawing gentle fingers over her hipbone and toward her inner thigh. Blue eyes flickered up toward her, and she dug her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palms as Barnes leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss between her thighs.

What followed was somewhat less than chaste. 

Bucky ran his tongue across her, teasing and darting, giving her just enough to push her so very damn close to the edge but not so close as to push her across it. He kept at it, advancing and retreating with slick twists of his tongue until she was trembling and he had to wrap one strong arm around the back of her knees and wind his hand up her bare thigh to keep her standing upright. 

“I’m gonna die if you don’t finish this-” she bit out, and he huffed a laugh out against her, running his tongue carefully along her, and then standing up abruptly. Darcy wobbled on her feet, and he had her, arm around her waist and the other hand at his belt buckle, fumbling and pulling until it clanged to the floor with his jeans following soon after. 

Bucky walked her backwards, stepping out of his jeans without a second look, and Darcy moved with him until her back hit the wall. She let out a gasp as the cool plaster touched her bare skin, and he shifted her up in one smooth movement, pinning her with his hips. 

She could feel his cock, hard and slick, nudging between her legs. Darcy groaned and opened them as wide as she could, wrapping them around his narrow waist so that he could thrust upwards and into her. Bucky swore with his face pressed between her breasts, sliding home like he belonged there. 

“Fuck-” he said again, pumping into her hard and stilling as Darcy cursed out loud herself, hands fisting in his shaggy dark hair. Bucky left little kisses across her collarbone, where her t-shirt gaped, and she began to move against him. 

“We’re - oh god - we’re still - keep doing that - still friends, right?” Darcy panted into his ear, as he jackhammered his way into her again and again, with her twisting her hips as much as she was able to, pinned between the wall and a solid slab of muscle. 

Bucky drew his head back, still thrusting into her, forehead slick with sweat and his hair rumpled. Blue eyes fixed on her own, and he nodded, frantic, as his hips snapped into her once, twice and a third time that pulled from her something that sounded a lot like a howl of pleasure. 

“Of course - yeah, like that - just - Jesus, Lewis - friends, who, who-”

He gripped her wrists in one hand - his metal hand, cool and unforgiving - and stretched her arms above her as he moved against her body, pulling her into a different position that pressed her breasts together in an interesting way and had him mouthing at them between breaths, wishing he’d thought to remove the t-shirt as well as her underwear. 

“Friends who fuck-” Darcy finished for him, her head slamming back against the wall as he pushed up hard and she clenched around him, her thighs tightening over his waist and her breath coming in sharp bursts as she came with a shout. Bucky, who’d been hanging on by a bare thread, followed her gratefully, cock jerking inside her as he dropped his head to her shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed against the base of her throat. 

He sucked in a breath, with eyes closed briefly, then withdrew from her carefully, her legs still wrapped firmly around him and her arms pinned above her head by him. 

“Just friends who fuck.”


	2. Chapter Two

Darcy awoke gingerly, as snatches of the night - morning, grumpy Darcy hollered from the back of her mind - before filtered back through. She cracked first one eye, then the other, her dark hair wild as it hung over her face. She realised that she was still tangled with a naked Bucky, the pair of them sprawled over her couch and a not entirely unpleasant ache between her legs, and couldn’t bring herself to be completely devastated about her life choices. 

That said, it still wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. 

Alcohol plus yearning plus a man who had a desperate and wholly unrequited love for another woman probably wasn’t a good choice for anyone, even a girl who had confessed her own deep and dark desire for a man who had little to no clue she actually existed. 

Darcy groaned out loud, unable to help herself, and the naked man underneath her stirred slightly. He shifted underneath her, hips rolling and jerking upwards, catching Darcy off guard and unbalancing her. She yelped as she lurched to one side and rolled off the couch, her heart shuddering in her chest as she braced for impact on the hardwood floor. 

Bucky, eyes still shut, shot an arm out instantly which looped around her waist, and pulled her back, dragging her flush against his chest. Darcy’s head thudded into his shoulder, dark hair tumbling across both of them as she moved. He cracked one eye sleepily and regarded her. 

“Mornin’ Lewis,” he said. “Sleep well?”

“I didn’t, um…” Darcy began awkwardly, her legs entwined with his and his hand splayed over her lower back as he kept her pressed against him. The dark haired man drew one leg up, bent easily and resting against the back of the couch, his other arm flung behind his head. She swallowed and twisted her mouth before continuing. 

“Uh, I mean … Shout anything about-”

“Steve?” Bucky yawned. “Only once or twice. Don’t worry about it.”

\-------

“So…” Darcy said slowly, placing two plates down and sliding into her chair, the whole time not quite looking at the man opposite her who was still lounging half naked at her breakfast table. Her feet, bare and a little chilled in the morning air, moved restlessly. One wound its way around the leg of her chair, ankle hooked neatly with pointed toes bent against the floor, and the other tapped out a rhythmless beat. 

“Is this a one time thing, or…?”

“You want it to be a one time thing?” Bucky asked, looking up at her and shaking his shaggy dark hair back from his face as he moved. He shifted in his own chair, the wood protesting with a groan at the weight of an enhanced body of muscle dropped into it. 

“I mean, it's fine if you do. Or don't. That's also… Fine.”

Darcy gazed at him across the table and considered how pathetic she could be considered to be, on a scale of one to a Kate Hudson movie, for trading one uninterested super soldier for one who was interested in banging her so long as he could close his eyes and imagine that she had red hair and a wicked scissor kick.

Then again, it wasn't as though she'd not been thinking about six foot solid of blond hair and blue eyes as he'd nailed her against her own living room wall. 

She shrugged. 

“Do you want it to happen again?” She asked carefully, looking mainly at what was left of her breakfast and only at Bucky’s reaction from the very corner of her eye. He grinned, a slow creeping smile that twisted his mouth into a crooked line as his eyes flickered over her. 

“Well… If you're gonna keep doing that thing where you clench and then-” 

Darcy swatted at him from the other side of the little table, using the dishcloth and flicking it expertly so that the end of it stung across his thigh, thankfully for him jean-clad unlike his chest, which was bare as he lounged with one arm resting on the back of the chair. Bucky laughed and caught it, tugging it away from her in one easy movement. 

“You know,” he said lazily, twisting the cloth in his hands idly before looking back at her with clear blue eyes. “Technically it’s already more than just a one time thing.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow, and Bucky held up his right hand, all five digits pointing skyward. 

“The wall,” he stated, and his thumb tucked neatly into his palm. 

“The floor,” he added, his index finger folding down and joining its brother. 

Darcy flushed a deep pink at the memory of it, the way that he’d pulled her on top of him, the sweat sheen over their bodies making them both shine in the moonlight as it streamed through her living room windows. The way that she’d ground down against him, shameless and rolling her hips with his until she’d come with a shout and her fingertips clutching hard at his shoulders. Darcy fidgeted in her seat, but kept her blue eyes gazing at him anyway. 

Bucky jerked his head behind him dramatically, dark hair covering his face momentarily, though his cheshire cat grin was still visible. 

“The kitchen counter,” and his middle finger disappeared into his palm. 

Darcy’s eyes flickered over his shoulder to where one of her wall-hanging kitchen cupboard doors hung sadly on one hinge, the lower one languishing at the bottom of the sink amidst the dirty plates she’d meant to shove in the dishwasher the day before. That had been her idea, tugging him toward the kitchen and hopping up onto the counter eagerly, her legs locking around his waist as he’d slunk forward to meet her with a knowing grin. 

It had been Bucky’s hand though, that had ripped the cupboard door, reaching out for something to ground himself against as he shuddered, with his head dropping to rest against her shoulder and his mouth making wet movements over her bare skin but only managing some low groan of unintelligible noise as he spent himself buried inside her. 

“The floor again,” he said pointedly, his fourth finger folding downwards into his palm. 

The floor again, yes, but that time had seen Darcy on her hands and knees, Bucky bent behind her and his face between her thighs until she’d been barely able to keep her arms straight to hold herself up. And then - god, and then he’d been bent over her, improbably ready to go again - and she’d moaned out loud as he slid inside her, and he’d whispered with hot breath into her ear that it was a super soldier thing. 

She hadn’t complained. 

“Mmmm,” Darcy said, for want of anything else to say and trailing her index finger in the puddle of maple syrup on her plate, the excess from that which she’d drizzled over her bacon, tracing sticky geometric shapes badly as her mind replayed a greatest hits of all the things she’d done with Bucky. 

“And the couch,” he finished, finally making a fist as his pinky joined his other digits folded into his palm. 

The couch had been a lazy finale, a conclusion really of two bodies warming down from their activities, little kisses stolen as they moved slowly together. Darcy cradled underneath Bucky and him moving above her, slowly stroking into her with his eyes on her face and gentle hands at her cheek and tangled in her hair. 

“Yes, well,” Darcy said, hauling her mind away with no small amount of effort from the memory of Bucky sighing his final release into her and capturing her mouth with his own as he did. “You didn’t actually answer the question.”

Bucky laughed, shifting in his seat and letting his legs fall open and stretch out, the length of them meaning that he reached almost to her chair - just falling short of grazing against her bare feet with his own. He ran a hand - his right hand - through his hair and fixed her with a searching look, blue eyes staring across at her. 

“Yes, Lewis,” he said after what felt like an age. “Yes, I do want to do it again.”

Darcy looked up at him, a little surprised at his answer. Bucky looked back at her carefully, and the little brunette fidgeted again in her seat, pressing her legs together and suddenly realising, under the heat of his gaze on her, that she wasn’t actually wearing any underwear. She cleared her throat. 

“He’s missing out, you know,” Bucky said, glancing at her over his glass of orange juice before taking a long drag. “Steve, I mean. That thing you, uh, the thing with your tongue? That’s pretty good, Lewis.” She blushed a little and turned away slightly, feeling idiotic for not being able to accept a compliment like that. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Darcy shrugged, staring at her toast, charred too much on one side because instead of watching the grill, she’d been thinking about the way he’d dropped to his knees in front of her with the door still open, as though he’d been so focused on that act that he’d not even considered the fact that he’d walked straight in and left it hanging ajar. She’d given him the less burned pieces. 

“That one move, you know the one with the-”

“The hips?” Bucky suggested from the other side of the table, his blue eyes darkening slightly as he spoke. Darcy nodded in response, flushing a little again and wishing she could will that reaction away with the force of her mind. 

“I like that one too,” he said, spearing a sausage on the end of his fork. “Been a little while since I used it.” Bucky gave her a crooked smile as he said it, and Darcy wondered just how long it had been for him. 

“Funny,” she said instead, flicking her eyes up at him for a moment and then darting them away with a small smile before she continued on. “Seem to recall you using it around three times last night.”

“Didn't hear you complaining about the repetition,” he countered, giving her a sly wink from across the table. “Seem to recall you were begging for it to continue, actually.”

“I'm not sure begging is the right term,” Darcy said, tilting her head to one side as she answered him. She was absolutely certain she had not begged him for anything. Probably. 

“Begging,” Bucky repeated, both chewing and shooting her a wink as he did so. 

“That was not begging,” Darcy said firmly, pointing her fork at him. “You wanna see begging, I'll show you begging-” she continued, sliding off her chair and moving toward him. Somewhere in the midst of everything, she'd wound up in his shirt, and the hem rode up her pale thighs as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

Bucky’s breath caught in the back of his throat as she nudged his legs apart with first one shoulder and then the other, and settled between them, tugging at his jeans - he'd not bothered with the belt, slung over the back of the couch still - and he lifted his hips a little so she could wriggle them down.

His cock, already half hard with interest at their conversation and the memories it had wrought on him, sprung free. Darcy threw him an eyebrow, settled as she was between his legs, and he grinned back. His underwear was lying underneath the belt, also slung over the couch.

She mouthed at him, pressing hot, teasing little kisses the full length of his cock - starting at the base and making her way slowly up, up, up - until she reached the blunt head and swirled her tongue around it, collecting the tiny beads of slick that had already appeared. 

Bucky closed his eyes and let his head roll back on his shoulders, sighing in pleasure as she took him into her mouth fully. One hand - his right hand, because Darcy was damn good but he still had half a mind for her furniture - gripped at the edge of the little breakfast table as she got to work. 

“Oh, Jesus Darce-” he bit out a moan and let his other hand drift to her head as she bobbed between his legs, sinking as much of his now achingly hard cock into her mouth as she was able, hollowed cheeks and tongue sliding wetly over it. He carefully - oh, so carefully - laid his hand on her head, mindful of the additional strength he had in it. 

The brunette hummed around him and his hips jerked involuntarily, bucking upwards and fucking into her mouth. Bucky’s right hand left the table edge and he stuffed it, balled into a fist, into his mouth. Biting down against it as she worked him over, sucking and twisting her tongue over the head of his cock like she had nowhere better to be. 

“Ah, fuck,” he swore, and tugged her off him as gently as he was able to, bending down to where she knelt in front of him and pulling the girl up until she was straddled across his lap with his cock bouncing between them. Grinning, Darcy’s hands dropped and clutched around him, stroking over his length still shining with slick from both him and her attentions. 

Bucky wrapped his left arm around her waist, balancing her over his thighs carefully, and walked the fingers of his right hand over her hip. Exposed to him, his shirt loose at the front - gaping open where she’d not tethered all the buttons together, and even then not all of them in all the right holes - and raised over her thigh. 

His fingers found their way around the curve of her ass, her buttocks spread invitingly where she sat over him, and her efforts redoubled on her cock as Bucky danced his way teasingly around her ass and back up and under. He felt the wetness between her thighs and grinned as he ran two fingers lightly across her. 

Darcy shuddered in his lap, still working his cock with both hands, throbbing between her fingers. Bucky pushed up one finger into her, experimental and his eyes closing as he found her tight around him. He watched from half-lidded eyes as she bit down on her lower lip, him twisting his finger into her and watching for the way that she trembled when he did it. 

“Oh fuck, Bucky please-” 

He surged upward, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him as the other swept out blindly, knocking everything that lay scattered over the kitchen table onto the floor. There was a crash as the milk jug hit the wall and shattered. Darcy half looked toward the noise but Bucky was capturing her mouth with his, insistent and deep. She groaned into him and wound her arms around his neck.

“I'll clean it up after-” he mumbled, between kisses. Darcy nodded vaguely in response, unable to bring herself to too much bother about it at that moment. 

Then he was laying her backward, her bare ass pressed to the edge of the table and him looming over her, pulling her legs up and around his waist. 

“Barnes,” she growled as he slid against her, cock hard and teasing as he glanced across her. Bucky, bent on his elbows, lifted his head from where he'd been kissing along the curve of her breast, his shirt gaping open on her, and grinned. 

“You want this, Lewis?” He asked, playful and accompanying it with a sharp tilt of his hips that pushed his cock into her just an inch. She moaned and arched her back, trying to drive her hips toward his and ride further onto his cock.

“You're a horrible tease,” she panted as he drew back from her a little, easing his cock out of her until he was just pressed up against her and she, needy and wet, circled her hips and closed her eyes in frustration.

“I am,” Bucky agreed, and slid an exploratory hand up one leg and to her thigh, squeezing at her and pushing it back up and around him. “But I've got you Lewis, don't worry.”

With that, he plunged forward, hand still pinning her leg in place with the other stretched out around him as he stood between them. Darcy cried out and arched off the table again, his cock thrusting into her and buried deep. 

“That what you wanted?” He huffed, leaning over her and pumping in hard, again and again. Darcy, unable to get her brain working enough to form the words to respond, just nodded and clutched at his shoulders, digging her fingernails into him as he sped up.

“Oh god, Bucky, just like that,” she breathed, biting down on her lower lip hard enough to taste a sudden rush of copper as her teeth split the soft skin. Darcy pushed back eagerly, to meet his hips on every thrust, earning herself a panted collection of curse words delivered with hot breath to her ear as he bent over her and slammed a fist onto the table, shaking it violently. 

“Fuck, tell me you're close, I don't know that I can hang on much longer if you're gonna do that-” Bucky ground out, words coming hard and him wishing fervently that he was. Darcy’s left hand moved from his shoulder to his neck, and she reached up to kiss him hard on the mouth, tongue sliding against his and her hand tangling in his sweat slick hair as he moved inside her, jackhammering deep. 

“Keep - oh god - keep going, just like that,” Darcy breathed into his ear, breaking away from his mouth to whisper the instructions into his ear, her words broken by little cries of pleasure as he circled his hips and thrust into her, the table shuddering underneath their movements. He still had both feet on the ground, Darcy wrapped around him with her back more or less on the table, though she clutched at him as he bent over her. 

Even in the state he was in, a hair’s breadth and just one too-deep thrust away from coming so hard he’d forget his own name, Bucky didn’t think Darcy’s table would last too long if he clambered up on it as well. Dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought it might be nice if he actually managed to get the girl into an actual bed at some point. 

The thought evaporated as Darcy pushed up against him and came with a curse that ended in his name and had her fingers tugging at his hair. Bucky kissed her deeply, swallowing the moan she was making as he let go and followed her, cock jerking to completion inside her again. Still kissing her, his eyes closed, he pulled back and withdrew, but remained standing between her spread legs. 

Darcy rose with him as he straightened, her legs sliding from his waist to rest against his own as he stood. Finally he broke back from her mouth, and gazed down at her. Dark hair, tangled into curls and strands of it stuck with sweat across her forehead, her blue eyes were half-lidded and sleepy. He bent and kissed her again, quickly, before standing back properly. 

She drew one leg up onto the table and hauled down the hem of his shirt until it covered her hips again, looking a little awkward as he pulled up his jeans and fastened the button so that they hung low over his own hips. 

Bucky threw a sidelong look at the floor, and where her milk jug lay in pieces, splashes of milk up the wall and little pools of it dotted in and around the other things he’d shoved off the table in his haste to get inside Darcy. He wrinkled his nose and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll sort that,” he said, waving a hand at the mess. 

Darcy took a look as well, and sighed. 

“S’fine,” she said, running a hand through her hair and shaking it away from her face. “I never liked that jug anyway.” She hopped off the table and stood in front of him, staring at his bare chest before looking up at him properly. Bucky gazed back at her, waiting for her to speak. 

“So,” Darcy began, tilting her head as she craned it to look him in the eye, the man having a foot or so of height on her. “This is a thing now, is it? A… Friends who fuck, thing?”

“Guess so,” Bucky answered cautiously. 

Darcy nodded, more to herself than to him. 

“Okay,” she said, and stuck her hand out. Bucky looked at the hand, then at the girl offering it. She nodded at him, raising her eyebrows and wiggling the fingers of the outstretched hand. He extended his own, and - hesitantly - slid it into hers. Darcy squeezed it tight, then shook the intertwined hands firmly. 

“That’s it agreed, then,” she said, still hanging onto his hand. “No strings, no ties, no bullshit. Just good sex between friends.”


	3. Chapter Three

Bucky tugged on his tac jacket one handed, the other running quickly through his tangled hair, smoothing it away from his face. Across from him, Natasha zipped up first one boot, then the other, and he made himself look away from the shape of her legs as she bent nearly in two to do it. 

Snatches of memory flooded his mind, unbidden, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to drive them out. Memories of red hair tangled in his fist, of Natasha spread beneath him, naked and beautiful on a fur rug as he thrust inside her. Bucky shook his head firmly and the thoughts dispersed to the back of his mind. More or less.

“Where’s Steve?” He asked, reminding himself that - whatever semblance of something they might have shared in the past - Natasha was his best friend’s girl.

“Not needed for this one,” Natasha answered shortly, nodding to Barton as the archer jogged up the lowered ramp of the jet. Coffee in one hand and half a slice of toast in the other, Barton gave Bucky a sloppy salute - thankfully with the hand holding the toast - as he passed. 

“Stealth mission, then,” Bucky commented wryly, and Natasha shot him a quick grin before turning back to the little locker and rooting through it. Barton settled himself into the pilot’s seat, swallowing down the last bites of toast with lukewarm coffee. 

“So where did you get to last night?”

With that, the redhead tossed Bucky a searching look over her shoulder, the black cat suit snug around her lithe body already, as she reached for the gun rack. The mission alarm had sounded not ten minutes after he’d spent himself inside Darcy on her kitchen table, and he’d only just had time to make himself look half-presentable. 

Bucky considered that there was at least one upside to not bothering about the three-day stubble that usually graced his chin, nor the fact that his hair brushed his shoulders. He dimly recalled a time - too long ago now - when he would have seen himself in the mirror and fainted dead away at the sight of himself, but it wasn’t a character trait he’d bothered to try and resurrect. 

He gave her a look from the corner of his eye that he knew full well she wouldn’t miss, even with her back turned to him, and let a sly smile creep its way across his face. 

“You been missin’ me, Tasha?”

“Missed your sulky face dampening the party,” she answered smoothly without turning back to him, and he grinned despite himself, hauling his boots on and lacing them quickly. Hunched over on the small bench in the back of the Quinjet not really built for super soldiers, Bucky tied off his laces and sat back with his shoulders resting against the cool metal of the jet. 

Natasha, snapping her utility belt together efficiently around her slim waist, sat down opposite him and arched an eyebrow his way. Bucky looked at his shoes. Barton, hearing aids discarded in the cupholder Stark had insisted on fitting, fired the jet into motion from the cockpit and the aircraft rose steadily. 

Minutes passed. 

“What?” Bucky sighed, letting his legs kick out in front of him lazily. He fixed the redhead with a look that said he wasn’t in the slightest interested in what she was thinking. A lie, through and through. Bucky assumed - as he usually did, for his own good - that they both knew that. Natasha, in turn, was singularly unimpressed with him. 

“I don’t know yet,” Natasha replied, crossing her legs with her green eyes flickering slowly over him, considering as she did so. “But I’ll find out.”

“You think there’s something to find out?” Bucky answered. 

“I know there’s something to find out,” she said smoothly. “And we both know it’s only a matter of time before I do.”

“So interested in me, Tasha,” he grinned, tugging on gloves as he directed his gaze at his hands. “People will talk.”

“You wish.”

\-------

“You workin’ out today, Darcy?”

She started, pulling back from the treadmill to find Steve smiling kindly down at her. Steve, in a far too tight t-shirt and joggers that did everything for him and nothing - or, to look at it another way, entirely too much - for her over-worked imagination. She gulped slightly and hoped it wasn’t obvious as she couldn’t help but flick her eyes over him. 

“Yup,” she managed, finally, as she met his clear blue eyes briefly and saw in them a hesitation as she failed to answer the question immediately. She also saw a brief but surprisingly comprehensive flashforward of all the ways that Natasha could choose to decorate the common room with her innards if she knew how Darcy’s gaze lingered. 

Darcy turned back to the treadmill and jabbed hard at the incline button until she was practically climbing Everest. That’s what you get, she thought viciously to herself as she felt her t-shirt start to stick to her back with sweat. That’s what you get for being the sort of awful person who scams on another girl’s man. 

Having punished herself enough - or, somewhat more accurately, when Steve had finally exited the damn gym - Darcy peeled herself off the treadmill and walked on legs that wobbled and shook, to the showers. 

Sighing with relief as the hot water hit her back hard, thrumming into her aching muscles and spilling down her body, Darcy let her forehead rest against the cool tiles. The shower steamed around her, rising in curling tendrils and fogging the chrome of the shower head. Water trickled over her, between her breasts, snaking across her stomach in rivulets until it ran between her thighs. 

Darcy hummed to herself, eyes shut, mind unwittingly wandering to her breakfast table and the way that Bucky had hauled her up onto it without a care. She could practically still feel him, the way he’d jackhammered into her, her thighs clenching around his waist as she came. Her treacherous mind blurred her memory … replacing dark hair with blond, two flesh hands gripping at her hips.

She yanked away guilty fingers from herself, shaking her head hard to chase away not only the unbidden thoughts of Steve but also the memory of Bucky. Bucky, and the way his eyes were soft in the breaking dawn. The way he’d moved above her, slow and sure, cradling her against his chest as they collapsed together on her couch. 

The shower gave an ominous groan and, as Darcy took a half-step back and peered up suspiciously, it let out a gulp of freezing water that hit her head and drenched her. She yelped loudly, stumbling backwards and hitting the shower stall door with a bang. 

“Everything okay there?” Called a concerned voice from outside, and Darcy squeezed her eyes shut in a grimace. 

“S’fine, Steve,” she called back with eyes still shut tight, willing him to go away, even as cold water swirled around her toes and made her shiver. 

“Darcy, you sure?” He asked doubtfully, and Darcy started away from the door hearing his voice closer than it had been before. It was a poor move, bringing her back into the stinging cold of the shower spray that bit over her naked body. 

She cursed, loudly, and heard a chuckle from outside the shower door. 

“You gonna let me help you, or are you gonna suffer?” Steve’s voice asked, and she could both hear the smile on his face and that he was folding his arms across his broad chest as he spoke. 

“I’m in the shower, Steve,” Darcy answered through gritted teeth, willing him to leave as she edged a delicate dance around the spray on tiptoe in an attempt to keep as much of herself out of the way of it as possible. “M’not exactly decent.” She eyed the shut off valve, and tried to calculate how long she’d have to shove her arm through the icy water to get to it. 

A towel dangled over the door, just out of reach of the water. Darcy bit her lip, looking at it, but snatched the towel up anyway and wrapped it around herself gratefully. She flicked open the door to meet Steve’s chest, then looked up at him. He was, thankfully, more dressed than she. 

“Heat went, didn’t it?” He said, quirking an apologetic smile. “Same thing happened to me. Didn’t realise you were still down here or I’d’ve warned you before you got in.”

Darcy gave him a one-shouldered shrug in return, aware her cheeks were pink. Pinker still, when he put one large hand either side of her and guided her gently out of the shower doorway. Steve rolled up one sleeve and reached across the shower, shutting the water off firmly before turning back to her, arm dripping wet. 

“Thanks,” she muttered, head ducked into her chest. “M’just gonna… Gonna grab my stuff.” With that, she scooped up her clothes - left in an untidy heap on the little wooden bench opposite the shower stall - and scuttled off in the direction of the changing rooms. 

Wine, Darcy thought, locking the changing room door firmly and sinking onto the bench with her head in her hands. Wine is the only viable solution. 

\--------

Bucky was woken from where he'd collapsed face first into the couch - boots still on but pants unzipped and showing the wide band of his boxers as they sat on his hips - by a pounding in his head. He shifted reluctantly, half-raising himself onto his elbows with the world sliding back into focus slowly, and realised the noise wasn’t in his head but rather at his door. 

He blinked, yawning, and pushed himself upright with some effort, shoving a hand back through hair that probably needed a good wash. He grimaced at himself briefly as he passed by the mirror hung over the mantelpiece, and his reflection shuddered back at him in return.

“Back atcha, buddy,” he mumbled, shooting a finger toward the dark haired scruff of a man who followed his footsteps in the mirror. “Right back atcha.”

He hauled open the door, ready to explain in minute detail to whoever it was banging on it exactly where they could go, only to find Darcy staring up at him with her fist raised. 

“Lewis?” Bucky said, blinking again, and then found himself with an armful of Darcy, shortly followed by a mouthful of her as well. He groaned into her as she kissed him eagerly, winding her arms up and around his neck, tugging him down toward her embrace. He responded in kind, looping his arms around her tightly and pressing her firmly against him. 

For all that he was enjoying it, her kisses were sloppy, and her hold a little too tight, as though she needed to hang onto him to keep upright. Bucky pulled back, held her by the arms and looked at her properly. Her blue eyes were glassy and unfocused as she looked back at him. 

“You drunk, Lewis?” He asked, thumbs massaging little circles into the tops of her arms as he spoke, gripping her gently but firmly. 

“What if I am?” She said defiantly, chin tilting up as she fixed him with a glare. 

“I don’t sleep with girls who aren’t able to make informed decisions,” he answered lightly, still hanging onto her. 

“Thought we were friends with benefits?” Darcy snapped, accusingly. 

“We are,” Bucky said, looking down at her. “Emphasis on friends. You’re not okay right now, Darce. M’not gonna take advantage of that. Believe me, it ain’t a benefit.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” she said, dropping her head onto his shoulder. He huffed out a laugh into her hair and hugged her close to him. 

“Pretty sure I’m not,” he said softly, closing both arms around her small frame and dropping his chin to the top of her head as she nestled into him. 

“Says you,” Darcy grumbled, still huddled against his chest. 

Bucky smiled to himself, then slipped an arm under her knees, bending his own slightly as he scooped her easily into his arms. Darcy protested under her breath, mumbling into him to which he took little notice. He turned, kicking the door shut behind him as he moved. Walking through his small apartment with her cradled against him, he deposited her gently into his bed. 

“You takin’ these off, kid?” He asked, tugging lightly at her pants. Darcy shrugged, and lay back, head in his pillows and arm flung across her face. He smiled to himself and pulled them off gently, dropping them on the floor beside the bed. Shuffling his knees up either side of the girl, settling around her hips, his hands found the bottom of her shirt. 

“And this?” Bucky said, drawing the material up slowly against the pale expanse of her stomach. There was a slight hesitation to his movement, a sudden flash of realisation that they were perhaps not quite close enough for him to strip her like this. And yet, he thought, shaking his head to himself, that was ridiculous. Not twenty four hours before had they both been naked and in a far more compromising position with each other. 

He helped her out of it carefully, and the t-shirt found its way to join the rumpled pile already comprised of her trousers on the floor. Leaning back, Bucky snatched up a clean shirt of his own from the laundry pile he'd been meaning to put away for the last three days.

“C’mon, you,” he said, nudging her to sit up for him, and shaking out the shirt so that she could slip first one arm and then the next into it. Darcy's fingers fumbled awkwardly at the buttons, matching them up all wrong with a frown on her face, until Bucky knocked her hands away and did them for her. Darcy watched him, arms hanging uselessly at her sides as she sat cross legged in front of him, silent as he deftly matched buttons to holes, bottom to top. 

Finishing with the shirt open by three buttons, Bucky glanced up at her face and quirked a half-smile at her. Dark curls tumbled around her face, framing it and making her look younger than she was. All big blue eyes and a pouting mouth, he felt a tug inside him - somewhere around his stomach - that told him in no uncertain terms he wanted to kiss her. 

Bucky refrained, and Darcy flopped back onto the bed, limbs loose and pliant as she stretched out around him. He shifted, knees moving carefully around her legs, until he was lying alongside her, one hand propping up his head so that he could look down at her. 

“What’s the problem, kid?”

“Steve,” she gulped, and he knew it would be that before she started, really. Darcy sniffed hard, half-turning her face into the pillow away from his steady gaze. “I know it’s stupid to care, but I can’t seem to help it. He barely even notices me. Never did, not even before Nat.”

“Any man who doesn’t notice you is a prime idiot,” Bucky said, voice low as he laid his head on the pillow next to her, arm sneaking around her as he nudged her to raise her own head so that he could cradle his arm under her properly. 

“I know it's stupid,” she repeated, snuffling and rolling eyes at her own ridiculousness with fingers picking restlessly at a loose thread dangling from the hem of his checkered shirt as it lay over her thighs. “Nat’s, well, Nat. I'm such an idiot for letting myself get caught up over someone who's not available, let alone over Steve.”

She moved into him, unthinkingly gravitating toward him as she sniffed again. 

“Can't control your feelings, Darcy,” Bucky said sagely, and moved to put his hand over hers before he realised that she was cuddled into his right hand side and he had only his left available to him. It hovered, awkward, as he tried to work out the best way to shift her so that he could comfort her properly. 

Darcy threaded her fingers through the cool metal of his as they lingered above her, and drew his hand toward her with her own, tucking them both under her chin as she looked up at him. The last drops of tears she’d shed still clung to the ends of her lashes, and Bucky felt something in his chest tighten.

Damn Steve. It wasn't his fault that Darcy had fallen for him, but he might at least notice her and ease the path. Idiot probably hadn't even realised the way she looked at him, all quick glances and pink cheeks, those blue eyes turning dark as she ducked her head away. Even Bucky had noticed that much, and he’d not been looking. 

Bucky huffed out a sigh that rumbled through his chest and made Darcy glance up at him again. 

“You gonna kiss me, or is that against your code of conduct?” She asked, somewhat snippily, and he shook his head at her with a quick smile before dipping toward her and brushing his lips against hers. Darcy curled up into him, pressing back eagerly and sliding her tongue with a tease and a twist along the line of his lower lip. 

Bucky found his hands gripping onto her hips in an effort to remind himself that, whatever casual arrangement they had going on, fucking Darcy whilst she was drunk and half-crying over Steve wouldn’t end well for either of them. Her tongue slid against his and he almost threw every part of rational thought out of the window. 

“Rogers is a fucking idiot,” he panted, pulling away from her with some difficulty and pressing his lips instead to her forehead in a tender gesture. Bucky looked down at her seriously, running his hand up her thigh and squeezing at it gently. “As is any man who overlooks you, Darce. Don’t settle for someone who’s looking elsewhere. You deserve more than that, kid.”

“You know,” she said, hands running over his chest. “Pretty sure I was drunk when you nailed me up against my living room wall.”

“You were merry,” Bucky conceded, drawing back a curl from her face as it fell over her nose. Darcy sniffed and slung an easy leg over his hip. “You’re not merry now. You’re-”

“A hot mess,” she finished for him, half a laugh on her lips as she spoke, fisting her hands into his shirt. 

“Not what I was gonna say,” he said, kissing her forehead again before continuing. “Much as there’s little more I’d like than to bed you right now, go to sleep. You’ll feel better for it, trust me.”


	4. Chapter Four

Darcy awoke, eyes heavy and a weight crushing across her ribs. She blinked, swallowing hard with a dry mouth that felt like sandpaper, her tongue darting out to wet a bitten lower lip. She groaned and shifted, realising with a slow dawning of understanding that the weight across her was Bucky’s left arm.

 

She blinked into the early morning light that flooded the room, edging its way over the rumpled sheets, and focused hard on the flashing red numbers of Bucky’s radio alarm clock. 5am. Far too early. 

 

Peering with bleary eyes as far as she could manage over her shoulder, she found the soldier himself fast asleep and snoring gently into the pillow behind her. Dark hair tumbled across his face, a face that - for once, she reflected - was free of the worry lines that so often creased across it. He looked, she thought, younger in sleep than she had ever seen him. Even younger still than in the pretty monochrome photos Steve sometimes shared out, an easy grin on his broad face and Bucky slapping a hand across his forehead dramatically when he did. 

 

Twisting with some difficulty under the weight of his arm, Darcy wriggled until she faced him. Bucky still wore the trousers she had vague memories of being slung low on his hips when she’d turned up at his door. Wrinkling her nose in distaste at the memory of herself swaying over his threshold, she wondered briefly if Jane might have anything lurking in the lab that would erase that. Not her finest moment. 

 

As she was ruminating on her indiscretion, Bucky shuffled in his sleep, his grip tightening on her slightly. Shaken from her thoughts, Darcy looked at him again, cuddled into her own pillow with dark hair curling around her shoulders as she gazed across at him. His own hair fell into his eyes, tight shut as he slept. She found herself reaching out with tentative fingers, brushing it back so that his face was clear. 

 

Fingers that lingered a little over the pale skin of his cheek, smooth over the curve of his cheekbone and stubble arching up along the sharp line of his jaw until it faded over his cheek. Bucky shifted again, smacking his lips slightly, and Darcy snatched her hand back as though the touch of him had burned against her. 

 

She let out a breath that shuddered as it passed her lips. What the hell was she doing? Sleeping with him didn’t get her the right to touch him like that. Not with the tenderness of a partner, of a girlfriend. Darcy shook her head and instantly regretted the choice to do so, the inside of her skull throbbing loud and long like a drill behind her eyes. She groaned and massaged her temple with her fingertips. 

 

“Alcohol’ll do that to you.”

 

His voice was amused, yet still laced with sleep as he spoke. Darcy cracked an eye at him, unable to dredge the energy to do anything more than that as she continued to rub little circles into her temples. Bucky shifted, sliding his left arm from her waist to her shoulder and pressing a cool hand over her forehead. Darcy whimpered gratefully, leaning into his touch. 

 

“I'm an idiot, aren't I.” 

 

She said it flatly, eyes closed and still pressing her forehead into the cool metal of his left hand. 

 

“No,” Bucky answered carefully, shifting again so that he was facing her properly. His other hand drifted across her stomach, where his shirt had ridden up and exposed the clear pale skin that stretched between the bottom of her rib cage and the laced edge of her panties. He squeezed, hand settling onto her hip. 

 

“It happens,” he said. “Maybe wine’s not the best way to go, though.”

 

Darcy groaned again as Bucky raised an eyebrow. She closed her eyes into the cool touch of his hand over her forehead, and chased away thoughts of a broad-shouldered blond who lingered at the edge of her dreams. 

 

“You want some water?”

 

She cracked an eyelid, and Bucky’s blue eyes stared back at her, questioningly and with a hint of dry amusement running through them. Darcy sighed inwardly. She could hardly complain if he was laughing at her. Had she been able to stomach it, she might even have managed to laugh at herself. 

 

“Please,” she answered quietly, and he rolled over her, knees expertly either side of her without pinching skin. He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead as he moved, lightning fast and so quick she thought she might have imagined it. With that, he was gone, pants sliding low on angular hips as he padded silent like a cat through his apartment. 

 

Darcy had all but fallen back into a groggy sleep when he returned, a tumbler of ice-cool water in one hand and two aspirin in the other. She’d swallowed down the pills and half the water before eyeing him. He sat, one leg tucked under him and the other extended to the floor, at her feet. 

 

“How comes you have aspirin?” She asked, sipping at the rest of the water and drawing her feet up under her. “Thought you were a super soldier. No pain like the rest of us mere mortals.” Bucky shuffled a little further forward, running a hand through his shaggy dark hair, and laughed.

 

“I feel pain, Lewis,” he said, with a crooked smile. “Not actually a cyborg, whatever rumours baby Stark’s tryin’ to spread.”

 

“Not aspirin level pain,” Darcy answered, dogged as she drained the glass and set it carefully on his bedside table. 

 

“Not aspirin level pain,” he agreed, standing up and stretching. Darcy’s eyes were drawn unwittingly to the play of his muscles under his skin as he moved, graceful in a way that she would never be able to imitate. Graceful, she realised as she watched him with her head tilted thoughtfully to one side, like Natasha. 

 

Darcy cleared her throat and shook out her hair, forcing herself to look away from him. Bucky glanced back at her over his shoulder, and grinned. 

 

“You want a shower?”

 

A rumble rolled through the air and Darcy paused on her way back from the bathroom to listen to it. Sounded like there was a storm hitting the city, hard. She carried on, heading back to Bucky’s bedroom. Lightning sliced through the sky and it lit up the room for a hot moment, illuminating everything in it. Illuminating Bucky, who stood straight-backed and trembling at the window. 

 

Darcy’s steps slowed but she kept going, eyes fixed on the way his muscles were tensed. Shirtless still and bared to the waist, she could see in the reflection of the glass that he had his eyes tight shut. She lay careful fingers on the small of his back, and he shivered under her touch without turning toward her. 

 

“Go, Lewis,” he snapped out, not moving. Darcy could feel how tightly he was wound, coiled as far as he could go without snapping, just from the barest touch of her fingers across his skin. His hands gripped at the window ledge and, from the corner of her eye, she could see how the wood had cracked under the pressure of his left hand. 

 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, stubbornly ignoring him. Her fingers traced nonsense shapes over his skin, feeling gooseflesh raise under her touch as she moved. Bucky shuddered, a growl chasing around the edges of his breath as he exhaled hard and dropped his head. Thunder rumbled again, long low and loud, lightning chasing hard on its heels and Darcy could feel the instant Bucky’s whole body tensed further. 

 

“What’re you doing,” he said faintly, with his eyes still closed, too caught up in himself to frame it properly into a question as she slipped under his arms and pressed both hands flat over his chest, pushing him back softly and willing him to move with her. 

 

“Distracting you,” she answered, pressing her mouth with soft lips over his heart before kissing her way further south. Bucky stepped back as she moved, allowing her to push him back and back until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down heavily. Darcy settled over him, knees either side of his thighs and placing careful, tender, kisses along his collarbone. 

 

Thunder rolled again, the lightning following shortly after, and Darcy could feel the way Bucky's muscles tensed instantly with his thighs rock solid under her and his skin quivering under her touch. She didn't pause for a second as she moved over him, a hand on either shoulder before she cupped at his face and kissed his mouth.

 

Gentle, starting at one corner and working her way along his lower lip before kissing him properly. Slow and languid, Darcy pressed herself against him, chest to chest. Still holding his face with her thumbs caressing into the hollows of his cheeks, she slid her tongue against his. 

 

His eyes were still closed tight and his heart thumping hard where she could feel it thud next to her own, so closely were they tangled together, but his mouth started to work against hers. Bucky kissed as though he were remembering how to do it, slow and unsure.

 

His hands gripped at her thighs before moving up and clinging around her waist, Darcy shifted over him, rolling her hips slow but deliberate against his lap, feeling the first stirrings of interest there from him. Fingertips dig into the soft skin around her waist as the shirt of his she still wore bunched up. 

 

The room strobed bright again, as the glass shook within the window frames so close was the centre of the storm to the tower. Bucky pulled away from Darcy, the blue of his eyes shockingly bright against the pale of his skin. He shook his head, dark hair falling into his eyes, fingertips digging at her hipbones. 

 

“Sssshhh, distracting you,” she murmured, carding her fingers through his shoulder length hair and finding her way back to his mouth again. He let out a small noise that might have started out as protest but turned into something else as she rocked against him, one hand slipping from his neck to twist expertly at the buttons holding his shirt together over her. 

 

The chequered material lay open, exposing her breasts still cupped in silk and lace, and Bucky couldn’t help but put his mouth to the creamy curve of first one and then the other. Darcy settled further down against him, feeling where he was now fully hard and pressed up between her legs. 

 

“Darcy-” Bucky groaned as she let her hands trail his chest and tease at the waistband of his sweatpants. A smile curved her mouth as he traced her name with his tongue over her breasts where the lace of her bra cupped them. Thumbs circled her nipples until they peaked, stiff and sensitive, against the silk. 

 

He growled, a low rumble in the base of his throat, before flipping her expertly. 

 

“Should’ve known you couldn’t stand not to be on top,” she teased as he kissed his way between the cleft of her breasts where her bra separated them, and slid a hand underneath her to snap the clasp apart before slipping the straps down her arms carefully. Darcy wriggled obligingly, leaving the bra free and his shirt still swathed around her where she lay back, sleeves half-pushed down her arms and material gathered around her waist. 

 

“I like you being on top just fine,” he answered,bra dangling in one hand as he gazed down at her, throwing the offending garment over his shoulder before continuing his way down her stomach, only to pause at the scalloped edge of her panties. Bucky looked up at her from between her legs, blue eyes turned dark. “But if you want me distracted, I need to focus.”

 

His words were delivered with the pretence of a teasing answer to her own but Darcy, leaning back propped on her elbows to watch as Bucky edged her panties ever-so-slowly down her hips, could see the tremor in his cheek as he clenched at his jaw. The fingertips of her right hand brushed gently over the cool metal of his left hand, and his eyes flickered to her briefly before he pulled down swiftly, leaving her bare to him. 

 

She flung a hand over her mouth and moaned into her palm as he bent his head and ghosted his breath across her, before dipping his tongue between her legs. 

 

“Don’t be quiet,” he murmured, his words punctuated by a teasing probe of his tongue. “No one about to hear you, Darce.”

 

Her head fell back as her legs opened further for him, almost of their own accord, her back arching against the bunched covers as she eagerly asked for more. Bucky answered, pressing soft kisses over her and alternating with a dancing tongue that was light then fast, drawing her closer and closer to the edge before pulling her back again. Darcy’s fingers clenched in the bed sheets as he worked her over. 

 

The storm rolled on, rain beginning to lash at the windows and thrum with a steady motion. Bucky hesitated for a bare instant as thunder rumbled low overhead, the room flashing bright for the moment or two that followed, before burying himself back into her. Darcy cried out, hips undulating against his face with her eyes squeezed shut, and his flesh hand found one of hers, finger tips teasing over the palm of her hand as his tongue did the same. 

 

He built her and built her, chasing her almost to the finish line and then pulling back until she was breathless and panting for him with wild eyes and a sweat slick body that beat with the rhythm of a heartbeat that pounded for him alone. Satisfied, finally, that he’d driven her as far as she was able to go, Bucky hauled himself up over her with a hand either side of Darcy’s trembling body. 

 

“Please,” she whispered, hands clutching at his bare shoulders as he shifted over her body. “Please, Bucky-”

 

He fumbled at his pants, snapping the fly down and shoving them just far enough that his cock could spring free. Darcy rolled her hips up, his cock sliding between her legs as she spread her legs around his waist. Bucky groaned into her shoulder, head dropping when his cock slipped through her slick. His teeth grazed her skin lightly as she rocked upward, shifting herself onto the blunt head of his cock and sinking just an inch onto him. 

 

They both moaned out loud as he pushed into her further, Bucky biting down onto the sharp bone of her shoulder as he thrust, Darcy’s thighs clenching against his hip bones whilst he worked into her. She managed a litany of creative curse words, some under her breath and a good deal more louder and louder as Bucky picked up the pace. 

 

Leaning over her, dark hair wet with sweat and hanging in his face, those blue eyes still bright even in the darkness of the morning and the storm that lingered on around them, Darcy thought that he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. He gripped at her left thigh, dragging it up higher until she was curled around him with her leg bent, stretching her in a delicious way that had him hitting all the right places inside her. 

 

She grabbed at his shoulders, moving with him as he sped up, jackhammering his way into her with the bed groaning underneath them. 

 

“Please tell me you’re close,” he grunted into her ear, accompanied by a particularly deep thrust that had her near seeing stars. “I dunno if I can hold on much longer, feels too good.”

 

“Best let me on top then,” Darcy said breathlessly, and he rolled them in response until she was sat atop him. She grinned, flipped curls over her shoulder with his shirt still more or less around her, though slipping down her arms as she rode him. 

 

Darcy slid her hands down his arms and gripped at his hands, drawing them up and above his head. Bucky gave her that crooked smile again, his chest stretched out as she leaned over him, holding his wrists in place. He made no move to get away, though they both knew she had no way of keeping him pinned if he didn’t want it. 

 

He jerked his hips up against her, and she ground down against him, feeling his cock twitch inside her as she moved. Bucky bent his legs at the knee, forcing her forward further, hands still clutching at his wrists. Her breasts swung in his face and he swirled his tongue across one nipple, until it was peaked and stiff, before turning his attention to the other. 

 

“Jesus,” Darcy said, letting go of his wrists as she threw her head back.   
.  
“Uhuh,” he teased, sitting up a little on one elbow, the other hand sneaking forward to find where he was buried inside her. “Just Barnes.” 

 

Bucky accompanied his words with clever fingers that tweaked and rubbed whilst he pumped hard into her, Darcy grinding down against his cock and hand until she felt as though she were racing the seconds on the clock. She came hard, head dropping forward with her curls in her eyes, only to find Bucky surging upward to capture her mouth with his, cock spluttering to completion inside her as his tongue met hers. 

 

They remained clasped together, his cock still deep within her and shuddering to an end, glistening bodies pressed up against one another with hearts thumping in tandem. He kissed her hard, having pushed himself into a proper sitting position, one hand pushing her hair back and the other arm looped loosely around her waist, keeping her firmly with him. 

 

Darcy kissed him back languidly, tiredness suddenly lacing her movements after their race to the edge. She realised dimly that she had one hand cupping at his jaw, the stubble that graced his chin rubbing into the soft skin of her palm, the other flat on his chest over his heart. She drew back, and gave him a weak smile, before glancing over her shoulder to the window. 

 

It was splattered with rain droplets, but the sun beginning to break through the clouds was shining against them, casting a golden glow like millions of tiny baubles thrown against the glass. She looked back to find Bucky gazing up at her, arms still holding her tight. 

 

“Storm’s over,” Darcy said faintly.


End file.
